Thirteen
by Celica60
Summary: Mallory has long awaited her thirteenth birthday. She knows it will bring her maturity and sophistication. Mallory is disappointed. COMPLETE.
1. Disappointment

**THIRTEEN**

Summary: Mallory Pike has spent her life dreaming of thirteen. She knows it will bring her beauty, sophistication, and grace. Finally, she will grow up. Thirteen arrives and brings nothing, except disappointment and desperation. 

Mallory and Stacey are the only BSC members in this story. 

Rating: **strong PG-13** for sexual situations. 

Disclaimer: I called Ann M. She gave me the greenlight. 

Author's Notes: This story didn't turn out as I had planned. I honestly don't know what I think of it. I'm going back to humor after this. 

**CHAPTER ONE: DISAPPOINTMENT**

Mallory Pike is finally thirteen. 

She doesn't know why she expected so much out of a number. 

A number can't make you beautiful. Or charming. Or graceful. 

But, that's what Mallory expected from thirteen. It _would_ make her beautiful and charming and graceful. Plus, a million other wonderful things. Thirteen would change her life, make it rounded and complete. She knew - she'd always known - that the number thirteen would be her answer, all she needed - needed to grow up, needed to change, needed to start her life. 

Mallory is disappointed. 

Mallory went to bed on May first feeling awkward and ugly and hopeless. Red hair, glasses, braces. An awful combination. As her eyes closed and mind drifted, Mallory remembered a glimmer in the darkness - in the morning, thirteen would come. Practical Mallory Pike recognized the silliness in believing that a simple change of time - just a 59 falling to a 00 - could alter who she is. And, still, Mallory Pike fell into a shallow sleep, clinging to the possibility that she would wake as someone new. 

The morning brought thirteen. That is all it brought. Mallory woke with the same red hair, the same clear braces on her teeth, the same plastic-framed glasses waiting on the bedside table. And thick disappointment swelling in her stomach. 

On the way to breakfast, the other girls called out their wishes for Mallory's birthday. No one commented on a change in appearance or demeanor. In the lobby, she tripped and stepped on a sixth grader's foot. At the breakfast table, she knocked over Jen's milk, drenching Sarah's skirt. Clearly, thirteen had not honored its promise. 

Five weeks later, Mallory's still waiting. Sooner or later, she knows, something about her will change. 

Mallory has a lot of time for waiting. There's not much for her in Stoneybrook anymore. She discovered the summer before that life went on without her and no one much cared to make room again. After all, she'd only be leaving at the end of the summer, right? 

The Baby-Sitters Club has disbanded. The former focus of her life, the great thing her world revolved around is now just a passing thought in the minds of those who once called and begged and adored them for their service. The other girls - Kristy, Claudia, Mary Anne, Stacey - made the decision. No more meetings, no more sitting, no more friends forever. 

No one consulted Mallory. She didn't have a voice. But then, she was far away, living a separate life, and her vote didn't count. Mallory heard the news second hand from someone she can't remember. Mallory mourns the BSC on the sticky summer days when she's so bored that even an afternoon spent baby-sitting horrid Jenny Prezzioso would be a treat compared to the monotony of walking Pow twenty times around the block in hope of finding a familiar face. 

The other girls barely notice. Kristy will spend the summer away from Stoneybrook. First, at softball camp, then the last month at Shadow Lake. Claudia has summer school, for once not repeating a class, but taking World History a year early. Mary Anne's devoted to her boyfriend, a senior named Evan. She bakes him cookies, runs his errands, watches him lift weights in the garage. There's no space or time for anyone else. 

Even Jessi has moved on. Mallory doesn't understand it. She never saw it coming. Jessi has replaced her with a girl from down the street. Marcy Enbath goes to Stoneybrook Academy, plays the french horn in the marching band, and somehow stole Jessi and twisted her into someone unrecognizable. Jessi doesn't care about horses or ballet anymore. Instead, she takes trombone lessons and will transfer to Stoneybrook Academy in the fall. 

No one returns Mallory's calls. 

Except Stacey McGill. 

Mallory and Stacey are "home friends". They don't go to Pizza Express or the sale at Bellair's or anywhere further than the Pike's driveway. At fifteen, Stacey is far more sophisticated than Mallory ever hopes to be. Stacey dates a twenty-one year old frat boy from Stoneybrook U., reads European fashion magazines, and swears her lace thongs are imported from France. 

Stacey McGill is all Mallory has ever wished to be. Stacey knows this. It feeds her inflating ego like the adoration of a boy never has. To be admired by a younger girl, to be held in the highest regard as the pinnacle of beauty and sophistication. It's a pedestal Stacey has gladly stepped onto, standing straight and tall, gleaming with the glitter of newly polished gold. Stacey shines in Mallory's eyes. And in her own. 

All her life, Mallory has dreamed of thirteen. That magical age when all about her would alter to a state of glowing perfection. Back in the BSC, the older girls had reached that age and that perfection - Claudia with her flawless creamy complexion, Dawn with her cornsilk hair, and Stacey the sophisticated New Yorker with an endless string of boyfriends. Everything Mallory wants and knows thirteen will bring. 

It escaped her notice - or, perhaps, she ignored it - that when thirteen finally came, the older girls would also have gained two years. They would have gravity-defying breasts, driver's permits, and date boys from the varsity basketball team, who drive fully-loaded trucks on dates to Miller's Pond and never hear the word "no". Mallory is so far removed from this world. Mallory can't imagine what Claudia and Dawn and Stacey had at thirteen that she does not. 

Mallory will waste her life playing catch up, chasing something intangible and indefinable, something not meant for her, and forever falling further behind. 


	2. Desperation

**CHAPTER TWO: DESPERATION**

Desperate, Mallory turns to Stacey McGill. 

"Please," Mallory begs. "I want to be just like you." 

Stacey needs the distraction, needs to forget her own life, and the clutter pushing her out of it, taking over her control. So, Stacey and Mallory spend the late-mornings holed up in Stacey's bedroom, cosmetics and clothes and hair products and shoes scattered around them, overflowing from the dresser, desk, and armchair. Stacey sweeps dusty rose eyeshadow across Mallory's lids, grits her teeth and hisses _"hold still!"_ when Mallory blinks and smudges the liner. 

They don't discuss the boxes piling up all over Stacey's house. They don't discuss Mrs. McGill's fast approaching wedding date, or that at the start of August, Stacey will not be packing to join the Pikes in Sea City. She'll be much too busy sorting through and packing away and sealing up every content of her Stoneybrook self, and then will watch the movers carelessly toss that self into a moving truck headed for Maine. Stacey doesn't want to live in Maine. She doesn't want to live in a Bed and Breakfast either. Stacey has little faith in her mother's choice in men and even less faith in her mother's business sense. After all, Maureen McGill sunk her boutique in just five short months. And, Stacey would love to move back to New York, except her stepmother failed to meet anyone's expectations, and so, it's best that Stacey not even visit. 

So, Stacey needs the distraction. 

Stacey does what she can for Mallory. She identifies the three essentials for sophistication - appearance, attitude, and boys. At least, Mr. and Mrs. Pike allow Mallory to wear make-up and Stacey's discarded clothes fit, more or less. Now, if only the Pikes would do something about Mallory's frizzy, tangled mess of hair. And, if only, they would get her contacts. Mallory really can't afford to wait two more years. As far as Stacey's concerned, Mallory Pike needs more help than Stacey can possibly give in a month and a half. 

As for boys, Mallory can't move beyond Ben Hobart. 

"I'm comfortable with Ben," Mallory tells Stacey. 

"You aren"t supposed to feel _comfortable_," snaps Stacey. "You're supposed to feel _sexy_." Stacey twirls in her mother's lilac and fuchsia silk robe, then sits down at the dressing table. "That's the mark of a grown up - feeling sexy." Stacey smiles knowingly and dabs perfume behind her ears. "That's how I _always_ feel with Jason. Sexy and desirable." 

"I don't think I've ever felt that way with Ben," 

"Then, obviously, you're doing something wrong," 

So, Mallory leaves Stacey's house and heads straight to Ben's teetering in a pair of Stacey's unwanted platform sandals, wearing a gray tank top and more make-up than her parents allow. The platforms rub her raw between her toes and the tank top sags in the chest. Mallory doubts she'll ever fill anything out like Stacey. Mallory doubts she'll ever be anything like Stacey at all. 

At the Hobart's, Ben locks the door to his bedroom. Since Mallory's return from boarding school, all he's interested in is how quickly he can take off her shirt and bra. Mallory would object, but Stacey told her not to. And, if anyone knows about being grown up, it's Stacey McGill. 

But Mallory certainly doesn't feel grown up getting felt up by Ben Hobart. Instead, she feels vaguely sick. And, she certainly doesn't feel grown up when she slides her hand beneath the waistband of his jeans. Instead, she feels like bursting into tears or throwing up. Sometimes, she feels like doing both. 

Stacey assures her this is how things are done. Everybody does it and Mallory should shut up about it. 

Mallory never realized that thirteen came with so many strings. She thought it would be easy, uncomplicated, and she'd simply roll over in the morning, a new and lovely Mallory Pike. But, the steps and rules Stacey outlined aren't easy or uncomplicated or simple. Mallory finds it hard to believe that the other girls grew up by the same means at thirteen. Stacey assures her though. Mary Anne and Logan, Claudia and Trevor, Kristy and Bart, Dawn and Lewis, none of them were any different than Stacey and Mallory at thirteen. Mallory trusts Stacey. She has no other choice. 

It's faith in Stacey and faith in thirteen that keep Mallory returning to Ben Hobart's bedroom every afternoon. It's faith that sophistication and glamour will suddenly appear that stops her from pushing Ben away when he fumbles to unhook her bra. 

Something will happen, Mallory knows, and it will happen this summer. 


	3. Disastrous

**CHAPTER THREE: DISASTROUS**

A week before Mrs. McGill's wedding, Jason the frat boy dumps Stacey. Neighbors witness her chasing his Toyota Tacoma in a yellow string bikini, screaming obscenities and hurtling an empty bottle of Snapple after his speeding truck. The neighbors are amused to discuss exactly what Stacey McGill was doing in that string bikini. They say it's no wonder the Johanssens don't let her baby-sit anymore. Dee Pike worries Stacey might be a bad influence on Mallory. 

Stacey rebounds quickly. 

She takes up with Sam Thomas, for the fifth time in two years. Stacey doesn't have a lot of options. She's moving in three weeks. Sam's available. Plus, he has a car. 

Stacey assures Mallory, it's better to have someone than no one. 

On a Tuesday night in early-July, Stacey arranges a double date. She promises Mallory it will be a night to remember. 

It doesn't occur to Mallory to doubt Stacey's intentions. Stacey is a true friend, worrying about how to successfully sophisticate Mallory. The sooner Mallory grows up, the sooner Stacey will be happy, too. There is no cause for suspicion over Stacey's preoccupation with Mallory's virginity. As far as Mallory's concerned. 

Sam doesn't drive them to Pizza Express. Or the Rosebud Cafe. Or the movie theater. He drives them straight to Miller's Point, overlooking the pond. When they park, Stacey turns around to smile at Mallory and Ben. 

"Stacey, can I see you outside?" Mallory asks, opening the door and stepping out. 

Stacey glares and stumbles after Mallory in her mother's black stilettos and a cerulean blue miniskirt. Mallory's dressed in tan peddlepushers and a lavender-colored button-up. Stacey snorts in disapproval. 

"What's wrong with you?" Stacey demands, grabbing Mallory's arm and giving it a hard yank. 

"This isn't a date," Mallory protests. "This isn't what you promised." 

"This is _exactly_ what I promised," snaps Stacey. "I'm helping you grow up. And you're acting like an ungrateful baby." Stacey unsnaps the top four buttons on Mallory's blouse and smiles, reassuringly. "You might as well get it over with. These are steps to growing up, Mal. Ethan and I did it when I was thirteen. Everyone's done it. Everyone's doing it." 

Mallory says nothing, just stares over the edge of the cliff, down onto the shimmering water of Miller's Pond. It's like a glimmer in the darkness. Mallory wonders if she could dive over the cliff, straight into the cool, moonlit water, and swim away. She could run home, fast fast fast on her long, gangly legs. Maybe Stacey wouldn't follow. Maybe Stacey would leave her alone. 

And in the morning, Mallory would wake completely altered on her own. 

"Trust me, Mal. I won't steer you wrong," 

Stacey locks a tight grip around Mallory's thin wrist and pulls her toward the car. She smiles one last time. "Don't embarrass me. Or yourself." 

Inside the car, Mallory moves close to Ben. He's staring at his hands with their broad, smooth fingers. Mallory knows their touch well. Mallory and Ben don't make eye contact. They hear a zipper pull and Stacey's fluffy blonde head disappears from view. 

They stare at the back of Sam Thomas' head for what seems an eternity. Finally, Mallory flexes her fingers, suddenly stiff and cold. She undoes the button on Ben's jeans and tugs the zipper slowly down. Mallory lowers onto her stomach, flat as the cramped backseat will allow, and puts her head in Ben's lap. 

Ben moans so loudly the car nearly shakes from the force as the sound reverberates off the windows and doors. Mallory doesn't feel grown up. Ben groans. Mallory gags. 

And throws up. 


	4. Deflowering

**CHAPTER FOUR: DEFLOWERING**

"I'm just calling to say, Mallory Pike, that I'm never speaking to you again," 

Mallory stands in the hallway, face splotchy red and eyes irritated from a night spent sobbing into a pillow pressed tight against her skin. 

"You completely humiliated me, yourself, Sam, and probably scarred Ben Hobart for the rest of his life. He's going to have issues, not be able to perform properly. Sam, too. All thanks to you. All thanks to a little baby named Mallory Pike, who can't -" 

Mallory hangs up. 

"Stacey McGill and I aren't friends anymore," she informs her mother when Mrs. Pike comes up the stairs with a basket of laundry. The telephone rings again. "So, don't take any calls from her." Mrs. Pike pauses in surprise, but before she can ask questions Mallory walks into the bathroom and shuts the door. 

_I'm not a baby_, thinks Mallory, splashing warm water on her face. _I'll prove it to her. I'll prove it to them all._

Mallory runs all the way to Ben Hobart's house in the hot Connecticut sun. It's a muggy day. In the front yard, Mrs. Hobart's pulling weeds and chatting with Mrs. Perkins. Mathew and Johnny turn cartwheels on the lawn. 

"Go right on in, Mal," Mrs. Hobart says with a wave. 

Mallory takes the stairs three at a time. She doesn't knock on Ben's door, just barrels through. Startled, Ben whips around in his chair, nearly smashing his starship model with a flying elbow. Before she loses her nerve, Mallory turns the lock and lifts her t-shirt over her head. She didn't bother to wear a bra. Ben doesn't ask questions. 

Mallory doesn't feel like a grown up. 

She doesn't feel sophisticated either. Or beautiful. Or graceful. Instead, Mallory feels sore, guilty, and uncomfortably exposed. Mallory glances at the clock and wonders how much longer Ben will take. She hopes she doesn't have to do this more than once. 

Thirteen will truly come now. It will fulfill all its wonderful promises. Mallory wonders if she'll feel the effects right away or if there's a twenty-four hour waiting period. She hopes her mother won't guess the reason for her sudden maturity and sophistication. 

Ben still hasn't finished. 

Mallory begins to worry. All she feels is a cold sickness churning in her stomach. And guilt stinging at her eyes. She closes them tight and prays she doesn't throw up. 

This isn't what she expected. This isn't what Stacey promised. 

Ben groans and...it's over? 

Mallory sits up and shoves Ben away. "Do I look any different?" she asks. 

"Huh?" Ben reaches for his glasses on the bedside table. "No, same old Mallory Pike." He grins. 

Pulling her clothes on quickly, Mallory crosses the room to the mirror hanging over the dresser. Indeed, the same old Mallory Pike. Completely unaltered in appearance. Worst yet, she doesn't feel any different in any way that's good. All Mallory feels is sick and sad and ashamed. And none of those are anywhere near the glamour and sophistication promised. She is not grown up. 

Stacey McGill is a liar. 

"I have to go home," 

Ben's smile fades. He nods, bewildered. What did he expect? 

Tears spring to her eyes on the stairs. She crosses Bradford Court without acknowledging Mrs. Hobart or Mrs. Perkins. People think Mallory is smart. Right now, Mallory feels very stupid. 

Such a foolish girl. 

Of Stacey's true motives, Mallory cannot be sure. But now, Mallory doubts all Stacey ever said, every word Mallory so appreciatively swallowed. And Mallory must carry the weight of her actions and Stacey's actions all through eighth grade and beyond...beyond what Mallory can even imagine. 

Mallory turns onto Slate Street, wipes the tears from her eyes. She thinks of the last month, dissects all of Stacey's lies. Kristy...Dawn...Mary Anne...how foolish of Mallory to believe. Stacey just didn't want to feel like a whore alone. 

"Goodness, Mallory, why is your shirt on backward?" exclaims Mrs. Pike. 

Mallory bursts into fresh tears. 

Mallory is only thirteen. 


End file.
